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HAIKU DIALOGUE – Migration – Immigration – long list

Migration with Guest Editor Carole MacRury

Migration is the movement of people from one place to another, with the intention of resettlement. For thousands of years humans have moved and expanded their range over land bridges that no longer exist.  These early nomads followed the food, the climate or fled natural disasters. Historically, mass migration has shaped every country in the world through both conflicts and exploration. It continues today as our world grows smaller due to international trade and travel. There are many causes of international migration. Some people move in search of work or economic opportunity, to reunite with family or to study. My family fits into this category when we left Canada to study in the US, and never went back. Some move to escape conflict, persecution, or large-scale human rights violations. Still others move in response to the adverse effects of climate change, natural disasters, or other environmental factors. And some people were forcefully stolen from their countries to become slaves in another country. These migratory patterns shaped our countries. We wouldn’t be the same without the rich influx in immigrants who enriched our lives through their contributions in science, politics, technology, fashion, food, music, art and so much more. Most of us in the Americas can trace our roots back to another country. Indigenous people have their own unique stories to tell about the effects of colonization on their lives.  We’ll explore this rich topic for the next few weeks calling upon our own experiences with emigration, our own experiences with the migration of flora and fauna, and lastly, our internal migration within our own countries.

Below is Carole’s selection of poems on the topic of Immigration:

expat for dinner
tuning our vowels
to her taste

Daya Bhat
India

 

origami course
with each folding
closer to Japan

Mirela Brailean
Iasi, Romania

 

row after row
of bent backs
picking peanuts

Dan Campbell
Virginia

 

rehomed the mongrel’s eyes

Keith Evetts
Thames Ditton UK

 

on a cold Scottish day
the pavement artist
draws deserts of his home

Ann Rawson
Scotland, UK

 

Spanish coffee
on two tongues
a rich friendship

Sharon Ferrante
FL, USA

 

the in-laws
gossiping about family
in another language

Debbie Scheving
Bremerton WA USA

 

crowded border . . .
the refugee uses
the wrong dictionary

Ivan Gaćina
Zadar, Croatia

 

her garden
tells of her German roots
Edelweiss

Sigrid Saradunn
Bar Harbor, Maine

 

the rising sun
the other side
of the border fence

Didimay D. Dimacali
California, USA

 

changing skies —
the home
I left behind

Mona Bedi
Delhi, India

 

ethnic restaurant
the slow chew of
his native food

Helen Ogden
Pacific Grove, CA

 

bitter melon
my son asks for milk
in Tagalog

Adele Evershed
Wilton, Connecticut

 

Chinese neighborhood
a teapot fountain brimming
with nostalgia

Jackie Chou
United States

 

migration
I give the snowman
an Indian name

Arvinder Kaur
Chandigarh India

 

shamrock pin
mum’s long search
for home

Lori Kiefer
UK

 

London street market –
tastes of Jamaica
sing on my tongue

Annie Wilson
Shropshire, UK

 

new in town
browsing for stories of home
in the bookstore

Richard Straw
Cary, North Carolina

 

comparing
the size of lizards
old and new home

Deborah Karl-Brandt
Germany

 

creation reset
standing in queue
to get a SSN

Vishal Prabhu
India

 

saying eh
like a local
my year in Canada

Cynthia Anderson
Yucca Valley, California

 

“Born in Poland
Died in Australia”
Great-great-great grandparents’ grave

Haley Pearse
Australia

 

hugging the twins
in my 3rd period class
mother deported

Eavonka Ettinger
Long Beach, CA

 

emigrant dilemma,
who will tend
ancestors’ graves

Christopher Seep
USA

 

immigration –
little girl carries
the sea in a bottle

Aljoša Vuković
Croatia, Šibenik

 

dark side of the moon
30 years in Japan
less Japanese than ever

Charles Harper
Yokohama

 

relocation
I learn to straddle
two worlds

Nalini Shetty
Mumbai, India

 

indian waiter
someone asks between courses
when he’s going home

John Hawkhead
UK

 

old country feast days
half forgotten over time
mackerel sky

Christa Pandey
Austin, TX, USA

 

newcomer
my sign language
improves vastly

Chen Xiaoou
Kunming, China

 

grandmother’s soul
has emigrated –
who knows where

Guido De Pelsmaeker
Belgium (Holsbeek)

 

faces cut out
from sepia photographs…
the new ending

Kavita Ratna
India

 

adopted country
trying to put Humpty Dumpty
together again

Vandana Parashar
India

 

the whites
of a migrant child’s eyes
snow trees

Archie Carlos
Minnesota, USA

 

refugee camp –
she’s sharing her bread
with a sparrow

Daniela Lăcrămioara Capotă
Romania

 

grandmother’s six languages
none
for her daughter-in-law

Charlotte Hrenchuk
Yukon, Canada

 

flight
no time to grab my teeth
born without
die without

Caroline Giles Banks
Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA

 

the hail
of unknown words
migrant worker

Marilyn Ashbaugh
Gulf Stream, Florida

 

long river to cross…
a child refugee’s
paper boat

Alvin Cruz
Philippines

 

bleu, blanc et rouge
a more cosmopolitan version
of me

Marion Clarke
Warrenpoint, Northern Ireland

 

raised voices . . .
she explains how Allah is just
the same God

M. R. Defibaugh
United States

 

terra straniera…
mia madre sta guardando
la stessa luna

foreign land…
my mother is watching
the same moon

Angiola Inglese
Italia

 

far from home
my face in the mirror
a reminder

Meera Rehm
UK

 

cardboard suitcase –
well folded memories inside
a new skyline ahead

Cristina Povero
Italy

 

new country
breaking the silence
our phones

Aparna Pathak
Gurugram, India

 

garden of fairies –
I teach my nephew the alphabet
in a different language

Steliana Cristina Voicu
Ploiesti, Romania

 

second generation
the child with a puzzle piece
that does not fit

Valentina Ranaldi-Adams
Fairlawn, Ohio USA

 

after presenting
her wife to her parents…
one-way tickets

Maya Daneva
The Netherlands

 

co-worker
I pick up Spanish
through osmosis

Nancy Brady
Huron, Ohio

 

no fruit markets
only “super” stores
aircon bleach smell

Mike Fainzilber
Rehovot, Israel

 

grandpa Wilensky
we became the Wilsons
after Ellis Island

Kathabela Wilson
USA

 

homesick
i stir the pot
of fish curry

Sangita Kalarickal
USA

 

Medical exam of an immigrant –
I ask him how they say:
“breathe deeply!“

Tomislav Maretic
Zagreb, Croatia

 

two little boys
laughing in their mother tongue
quack with the ducks

Maxianne Berger
Outremont, Quebec

 

growing new roots
the unfamiliar scent
of the soil

Joanne van Helvoort
The Netherlands

 

from the dark old country
to the bright new world
moonlight crosses the ocean

Lorraine Schein
Queens, NYC

 

lost in transit
I re-learn how
to carry myself

Herb Tate
Jersey, UK

 

old town
the child’s smile
needs no translation

John S Green
Amman, Jordan

 

long roads
I carry the motherland
with me everywhere

Stoianka Boianova
Bulgaria

 

east London street
Diwali oil lamps glow
in sheltered doorways

Jenny Shepherd
London, UK

 

fresh baked baklava
she spreads a little sweetness
around new neighbours

Tracy Davidson
Warwickshire, UK

 

leaving the east
to feel the colours of the
western sky

Swarna Bopali de Zoysa
Sri Lanka

 

at tortoise pace
political migrants
backpack their homes

Kathleen Mazurowski
Chicago, IL

 

november rain . . .
under the bus shelter
an immigrant family

Daniela Misso
Italy

 

Chinatown
orange feet and dim sum
fill my plate

Pris Campbell
United States

 

girl with hijab –
she beckons me
to play hopscotch

Mircea Moldovan
România

 

culture shock
how tom yum tastes better
when slurped

Kanjini` Devi
The Far North, Aotearoa NZ

 

Chinese new year
cauldrons of chow mein
feeding whole streets of Kolkata

Sudha Devi Nayak
Bhubaneswar India

 

a waiting line…
fading violets in the hands
of a little refugee

Urszula Marciniak
Poland

 

forever rolling tides
all our belongings
in one suitcase

Padma Rajeswari
Mumbai, India

 

silent escape
a rum-soaked paci
for the baby

David Green
Chicago, USA

 

Join us next week for Carole’s commentary on additional poems…

 

Guest Editor Carole MacRury resides in Point Roberts, Washington, a unique peninsula and border town that inspires her work. Her poems have won awards and been published worldwide, and her photographs have been featured on the covers of numerous poetry journals and anthologies. Her practice of contemplative photography along with an appreciation of haiku aesthetics helps deepen her awareness of the world around her. Both image and written word open her to the interconnectedness of all things, to surprise, mystery and a sense of wonder. She is the author of In the Company of Crows: Haiku and Tanka Between the Tides (Black Cat Press, 2008, 2nd Printing, 2018) and The Tang of Nasturtiums, an award-winning e-chapbook (Snapshot Press 2012).

Lori Zajkowski is the Post Manager for Haiku Dialogue. A novice haiku poet, she lives in New York City.

Managing Editor Katherine Munro lives in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, and publishes under the name kjmunro. She is Membership Secretary for Haiku Canada, and her debut poetry collection is contractions (Red Moon Press, 2019). Find her at: kjmunro1560.wordpress.com.

The Haiku Foundation reminds you that participation in our offerings assumes respectful and appropriate behavior from all parties. Please see our Code of Conduct policy.

Please note that all poems & images appearing in Haiku Dialogue may not be used elsewhere without express permission – copyright is retained by the creators. Please see our Copyright Policies.

Photo Credits:

Banner photo credit:
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Prompt photo credit:
prompt photo one – Immigration – Carole MacRury

Haiku Dialogue offers a triweekly prompt for practicing your haiku. Posts appear each Wednesday with a prompt or a selection of poems from a previous week.

This Post Has 54 Comments

  1. These poems are wonderful! Made me think about my family’s migration from Hawaii to California, and then from California all the way to Connecticut and then back again. (Dad was in the U.S. Navy.) These are so inspirational, I’m grabbing paper and pencil right now! Again, beautiful, wonderful poems.

    1. Thanks Yvonne. I’m happy to hear this theme has inspired you. It’s a rich topic. Please stay tuned for the final prompt, in a few weeks or so, because it is all about ‘internal’ migration and all of your moves within country will be a great source of inspiration for you. As posted in my original blurb on the theme of Migration first was immigration, next is flora/fauna migrations and the last is ‘internal’. More to come on that when posted.

  2. So many life stories spring from this series of haiku from everywhere! Congratulations to everyone on the poetry of life!
    Thank you, Carole, for including my haiku on the position of a medical doctor, too! I mostly meet immigrants in the clinic. It’s hard to single out some haiku that I like better. Here are a few though:

    on a cold Scottish day
    the pavement artist
    draws deserts of his home

    Ann Rawson
    Scotland, UK

    expat for dinner
    tuning our vowels
    to her taste

    Daya Bhat, India

    terra straniera…
    mia madre sta guardando
    la stessa luna

    foreign land…
    my mother is watching
    the same moon

    Angiola Inglese, Italia

    far from home
    my face in the mirror
    a reminder

    Meera Rehm, UK

    november rain . . .
    under the bus shelter
    an immigrant family

    Daniela Misso, Italy

    a waiting line…
    fading violets in the hands
    of a little refugee

    Urszula Marciniak, Poland

    1. Medical exam of an immigrant –
      I ask him how they say:
      “breathe deeply!“

      Tomislav Maretic
      Zagreb, Croatia

      Do happy you offered up a few of your favorites Tom. Thanks! Your haiku reminded me of the challenges doctor’s face when treating immigrants because of the language difficulties. And the same goes to the frustration of the immigrant who tries to explain his symptoms!

  3. Grateful my offering was listed this week, as it is dedicated to the memory of my in-laws. When I would ask them what they were saying about a person, they would just laugh and say it didn’t translate as well into English. A little fun between their married selves.

    grandpa Wilensky
    we became the Wilsons
    after Ellis Island

    Kathabela Wilson

    I enjoyed this as I’ve always been intrigued by the background of name changes.

    silent escape
    a rum-soaked paci
    for the baby

    David Green

    As a mother, imagining having to try to keep a baby quiet during a perilous journey gave me pause.

    1. the in-laws
      gossiping about family
      in another language

      Debbie Scheving
      Bremerton WA USA

      Delighted you shared a few of your favorites Debbie. I enjoyed the lightness of your haiku, because I have had experiences myself with my friend and I when we visited her relatives in Norway. We were able to talk to each other about what we were eating, and sometimes it was funny knowing the family didn’t understand what we were saying. As in when they tried to explain the deer we were eating, were ‘deer balls’. All in good fun, lots of smiles, gestures and a good meal despite no common language.

  4. A great selection

    I can relate to the imagery in …

    growing new roots
    the unfamiliar scent
    of the soil

    Joanne van Helvoort
    The Netherlands

    the soil and the native bush have a distinct smell of country.

    1. I agree Wanda I loved the earthiness of Joanne’s haiku and its potential to be read on a metaphoric level as well in ‘growing new roots’, and that’s so similar to what it feels like when we transplant ourselves to another country.

  5. Hi Everyone,

    I appreciative Carole’s selection of my poem. This theme has a deeper resonance for me having lived in the West Bank, and currently in Amman since August. My wife and I have met many variation of migrants, not only in Palestine and Jordan, but also in our visits to Egypt and Kuwait. The one constant is each story ends with an admission of a deep love of their own respective homeland.

    Here are a few that stood out to my reading.
    .
    culture shock
    how tom yum tastes better
    when slurped

    Kanjini` Devi
    The Far North, Aotearoa NZ
    .
    terra straniera…
    mia madre sta guardando
    la stessa luna

    foreign land…
    my mother is watching
    the same moon

    Angiola Inglese
    Italia
    .
    the hail
    of unknown words
    migrant worker

    Marilyn Ashbaugh
    Gulf Stream, Florida
    .
    refugee camp –
    she’s sharing her bread
    with a sparrow

    Daniela Lăcrămioara Capotă
    Romania
    .
    adopted country
    trying to put Humpty Dumpty
    together again

    Vandana Parashar
    India
    .
    rehomed the mongrel’s eyes

    Keith Evetts
    Thames Ditton UK
    .
    new in town
    browsing for stories of home
    in the bookstore

    Richard Straw
    Cary, North Carolina
    .
    comparing
    the size of lizards
    old and new home

    Deborah Karl-Brandt
    Germany
    .
    immigration –
    little girl carries
    the sea in a bottle

    Aljoša Vuković
    Croatia, Šibenik

    1. I appreciate your commentary, John. You are living a life immersed in a rich cultural experience. Love how you focused on the sweetness and innocence of children in your haiku. There is no barriers with kids.

      old town
      the child’s smile
      needs no translation

      John S Green
      Amman, Jordan

    1. I felt the truth of your haiku Sudha, and always marvel at how culinary exchanges bind us together. What a loss if we didn’t experience each other’s cuisine!

      Chinese new year
      cauldrons of chow mein
      feeding whole streets of Kolkata

      Sudha Devi Nayak
      Bhubaneswar India

  6. Thank you so much, ed. Carole for including mine in this wonderful mix! Each one brings back interesting memories to mind.
    Awaiting the commentaries next week!
    Thank you team Haiku Dialogue
    Daya

    1. expat for dinner
      tuning our vowels
      to her taste

      Daya Bhat
      India

      Thank you Daya. I found your haiku so interested and original. The issue of language, and the way accents change when we move to another country and how those at home see this! On a smaller scale, my husband and I moved to the south (USA) and carried a southern accent because of it, and our families up north (Canada) would comment on it! It’s true that we pick up accents without even knowing we are doing so.

    1. I appreciated your gentle and poignant haiku Urszula. We all recognize ‘waiting lines’, and sometimes they can be unbearable. The wilting violets a poignant look at how the poor child must be feeling.

      a waiting line…
      fading violets in the hands
      of a little refugee

      Urszula Marciniak
      Poland

    1. Sally, I love hearing that you were inspired by reading through the selections. Thank you for sharing.

  7. indian waiter
    someone asks between courses
    when he’s going home

    John Hawkhead’s piece is one of the very few written from a suspicious local’s perspective, I found that quite telling!

    Thanks for the range of selections

    1. Mike, so glad you pointed out John’s poem. It could be read in different ways, but I interpreted it to mean that the Indian waiter is probably a citizen, and the question is an insult to someone thinking he should go back to India. Of course, we all read into poems in our own ways, but I chose this for its realism. We know this happens…

  8. Thank you so much, Carole, for including my poem. I found your selections so wonderfully varied and meaningful. This prompt was such an exploration.

    I was quite struck by

    long river to cross…
    a child refugee’s
    paper boat

    Alvin Cruz
    Philippines

    As someone who grew up along the Rio Grande, Alvin’s first line had me imagining the many who have so dangerously crossed it (especially lately). But then the added twist and pathos of L2 & 3 brought such a powerful metaphor of the challenge.

    1. Thanks for sharing your thoughts, Eavonka. I was especially touched by your perspective on the theme from your experiences as a teacher.

      hugging the twins
      in my 3rd period class
      mother deported

      Eavonka Ettinger
      Long Beach, CA

    1. You are welcome Steliana. Your poem reminded me of limited I am in speaking only English. I know many friends whose children are being raised in two languages.so they can communicate with their grandparents.
      It brings to mind the alphabet song ….

      garden of fairies –
      I teach my nephew the alphabet
      in a different language

      Steliana Cristina Voicu
      Ploiesti, Romania

  9. Nice selections!

    homesick —
    only the moon
    looks familiar

    in a foreign country —
    I order the homemade pie

    1. Thanks for the poem Earl! Good to see you and hope you stick around for prompt 2 coming up next week, I think.

  10. What an amazing collection of poems! Some are heartbreaking and some make me chuckle, but all catch some of the essence of immigration. I can’t even begin to choose a favorite. Kudos to everyone!

  11. fresh baked baklava
    she spreads a little sweetness
    around new neighbours
    .
    Tracy Davidson
    Warwickshire, UK
    .
    a lovely haiku

  12. Congratulations to all those selected for their apt haiku. It’s great to see how resourcefully people deal with a global phenomenon like migration! My Facebook will be bulging with haiku gems again!
    Many thanks to Carole and all the Haiku Foundation staff for selecting this valuable haiku!

  13. Thank you Carole for selecting my haiku.
    This week’s verses are very significant, among my favorites :

    “Born in Poland
    Died in Australia”
    Great-great-great grandparents’ grave

    Haley Pearse
    Australia

    emigrant dilemma,
    who will tend
    ancestors’ graves

    Christopher Seep
    USA

    grandpa Wilensky
    we became the Wilsons
    after Ellis Island

    Kathabela Wilson
    USA

    1. Thank your for sharing a few favorites Angiola. They show a poignant side of immigration, what can be lost….and yours expresses beautifully the connection you feel with your far away mother through the constancy of the moon.

      foreign land…
      my mother is watching
      the same moon

      Angiola Inglese
      Italia

  14. Thank you everyone. I was so impressed by the responses to the theme of Migration and especially to the prompt of “immigration’. I’m humbled by what I’ve learned, that for everyone who leaves their homeland there are those left behind, and in between, a myriad of experiences, some funny, some poignant. Please share a few that speak to you, and I will too.

    bitter melon
    my son asks for milk
    in Tagalog

    Adele Evershed
    Wilton, Connecticut

    The first line brought me a sense of bittersweetness to this moment. I wondered if the child was adopted and still speaking his mother tongue. How sweet he’s asking in his language, how sad that he might eventually lose that language. The juxtaposition of bitter melon set the tone for me. As a reader this is what I took from the poem. There might be other interpretations as well.

    1. Thank you Carole for commenting on my ku. That’s what I love about this poetic form- a reader can form their own interpretation and I see the poem in a whole new way (even one I wrote!)
      I lived in Hong Kong and Singapore for a few years. It was the norm to have ‘live in help’ ( or amah) usually from the Philippines. I had 4 young children and being so far from family the help was invaluable. On the other hand the guilt of leaving your child in the care of another was always there. So ‘bitter melon’ seemed the best way to describe that feeling- of course you want your child to be happy with the person you entrust their care to but there is also that part of you that is jealous when they ask for the amah over you!
      In fact there is a series just airing on Amazon Prime-Expats which scraps the surface of this dilemma.
      I’ve thoroughly enjoyed reading this issue
      Cynthia’s ku really resonated with me as after 6 years in Singapore ‘can la’ became part of my vocabulary. Looking forward to next week

      saying eh
      like a local
      my year in Canada

      Cynthia Anderson
      Yucca Valley, California

      1. Thanks for enriching my reading with the backstory to your haiku Adele. I enjoyed knowing more about this one. I’,m happy to have clued in to the mood.

  15. Congratulations to all the poets. It’s refreshing to see many new names in the column this week. Obviously, this prompt rang a bell for everyone in the haiku community.

    Thanks, Eavonka, for your friendship and help. I can’t imagine what those two went through.

    Congrats to my fellow Ohioan, Valentina, on your puzzle piece haiku. It’s so relatable.

    Thanks for including one of mine in the mix, Carole. It’s appreciated. Thanks, KJ and Lori, for all your help behind the scenes.

    1. Thank you, Nancy, for broadening the theme with your lovely haiku. I was hoping for little moments like this, interactions with people from another country. I tried to learn Spanish when I was young, and failed. Maybe I would have fared better if I had co-workers who spoke Spanish!

      co-worker
      I pick up Spanish
      through osmosis

      Nancy Brady
      Huron, Ohio

      Th

      1. Carole,
        I worked in a pharmacy, located in the largest Spanish speaking population North of Puerto Rico (or so I was told). My tech, a native speaker, spoke Spanish fluently and translated my advice to patients and vice versa their words to me. I also experienced young (10-12) children translating my advice/information to parents and grandparents and their questions translated to me. Over time, I picked up enough of the language (osmosis) to not speak it, yet able to translate it, roughly. I surprised her one day when I
        casually referred to her conversation with a police officer who stopped in to chat and was willing to go get us coffee. When she realized I understood much of their convo, she freaked. She was an awesome employee, a true co-worker, who helped all the staff out daily.
        Thanks Carole for choosing my haiku.

    2. You are such a treasure, Nan. I was so happy to see both our poems selected. Thanks for your friendship and kindness.

  16. Thank-you Carole for publishing my haiku. Congrats to all the poets who were chosen. Thank-you also to Lori, Kathy, and the Haiku Foundation.

    1. I can only imagine your haiku resonates with many Valentina. The 2nd generation straddle two cultures….it has to have its challenges….

      second generation
      the child with a puzzle piece
      that does not fit

      Valentina Ranaldi-Adams
      Fairlawn, Ohio USA

  17. Many thanks for undertaking this during a time of domestic chaos, Carole! Much appreciated. And gratitude for including my little line.

    I particularly liked:

    row after row
    of bent backs
    picking peanuts

    Dan Campbell

    And am looking forward to the commentaries next week.

    1. It is interesting that Keith could relate most to the migrant worker haiku. Personally, I was fascinated by the many haiku/senryu by people like me, immigrants to another country, though not migrant workers. Thank you, Carole.

      1. Hi Christa, Migrants in my state pick fruit and I’m not sure what we’d do without them. They migrate to where they can get jobs, and usually send the money back to their family at home.

        The response have shown me two sides of the coin , the ones that leave, and the ones left behind. The stuff of poetry!

      2. Well, although I’ve lived in seven countries other than my own, totalling twenty years, it was always as a diplomat representing, and remaining connected with, the home country. So hardly a migrant?…I have no direct experience of many of the things addressed in several of this week’s verses. I did meet many expats though, in three categories: partnered locally and completely assimilated; or limiting themselves to a little self-contained British community, playing golf and bridge and sticking to fish and chips; or like me, temporarily ‘passing through’ for a few years working or at a university (and generally relishing the culture). But I left a piece of my heart in most countries I lived in.

        With the advent of the web and things like free voice-over-internet and now free Zooming, I think there’s less homesickness, distance and maybe alienation than when I lived in Maputo in a time before the internet of no television, only six international telephone lines you could never get on (fiendishly expensive), a short-wave world radio for the BBC World Service to crackle over, and letters by diplomatic bag once a fortnight. I would get The Times after two senior colleagues, a whole fortnight’s worth, and I would start with the oldest. By the third day the headlines in the oldest one had completely disappeared, which was calming… But not relevant to this week’s topic.

    2. rehomed the mongrel’s eyes

      Keith Evetts
      Thames Ditton UK

      Thank you Keith. Yes, I worried for half a second, about the theme, but then realized we are more than the current crisis. Migration will always be with us. I could not resist your haiku, and even thought it would best fit the upcoming 2nd prompt, your haiku expressed, through a dog’s eyes, what it might be like to be constantly searching for a safe place to settle. It also suggested the massive shuttling around all those without a home must do. Yes, a wonderful haiku about a dog, yet about us. Sometimes a haiku is a complete metaphor for those that enjoy looking deeply into things.

    3. Slightly redolent of Gregory Longenecker’s Touchstone Award for Individual Poems 2020:

      strawberry season
      acres and acres
      of bent backs

      published in The Heron’s Nest XXI:1.

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